


Nonverbal Communication (Destiel One-Shot)

by Fangirling_FTW



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester One Shot, Destiel - Freeform, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, just a bunch of fluff, really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 18:18:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10904811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirling_FTW/pseuds/Fangirling_FTW
Summary: Dean hates those words.There's only three of them, how could they mean so much?But at the same time mean so little?





	Nonverbal Communication (Destiel One-Shot)

**Author's Note:**

> I was angered by ep 12.21 and wrote this to make myself feel better. That is all. Please let me know if there's incomplete sentences, I might have some unfinished ideas in here :3

Dean will never say those words.  

They're not enough.

They don't describe the shortness of breath when Cas walks into the room, even after all this time.  They don't cover the depth of the vulnerability he feels when Cas looks at him and just  _ knows  _ what's bothering him.  They don't speak to the secrets they've shared, the tears they've shed and the fears they've voiced in the dark at night.  They don't embody the joy Dean feels at their successes and the happiness that blooms in his soul when Cas laughs.  They can't possibly describe the thundering of his pulse in that brief yet eternal moment of anticipation just before their bodies become one, when they hover on the precipice of a physical bliss so intense it can make Dean weep.  

He won't say them because they don't even come  _ close  _ to describing what's between them.

Yet, in their paradoxical way, they're also too much.

They come with all this baggage of expectations and implications.  Once they're spoken, it's expected that something has to change.  Thinking about the next week suddenly turns into thinking about five years from now.  Moving to a new place, one suddenly has to think twice about getting an apartment versus buying a house.  A walk by a jewelry store suddenly becomes fraught with possibility, and crushing pressure to  _ do  _ something about those words.  They take the casual relaxation of a Sunday morning in bed and burden it with  _ the rest of our lives. _  It's not that Dean doesn't want that.  He just doesn't want other people's expectations of what that means to cloud what he and Cas have. 

He won't say those words because he can feel their oppressive weight bearing down on his chest every time he thinks about them… times like right now.

Dean and Cas are lounging around the house, having their monthly nerd movie marathon (Lord of the Rings this month).  Dean’s legs are propped up on the futon, and Cas is stretched out across the couch, head on Dean’s thigh, one leg hanging over the top of the couch, the other hanging off the edge.  Dean’s made a mess of his hair with his fingers, chuckling because more than once Cas had grumbled that he's going to go bald because of him.  There's nothing special about tonight, nothing new about them, nothing big coming up in the foreseeable future.

But those three words are bearing down on him, taunting him with both their inadequacy and their excessivity.

“So, do you want to talk about it?” Cas sighed.  He stopped wondering a while ago how Cas seemed to know there was something wrong with him, and it's a comfort that even without seeing his face, Cas can tell just from his touch that something is off tonight.

“I don't know,” Dean admitted.  Cas rolls over, looking up at him with a curious expression.

“You're usually very good at talking,” he teased.  Dean rolls his eyes even though he knows it won't hide the affection there.

“I think,” Dean muses, “I think I'm just thinking too much.”  Cas reaches up to brush his finger over Dean’s jaw, a gesture he picked up their first time they had sex, and something Cas has done to comfort Dean in the three years since.

“Does it have anything to do with the wedding invitation we received in the mail?”  Dean set his jaw and looked away, and Cas pushed himself upright.  “Dean, Ssm is your brother.  He just wants his family to be a part of his big day.”

“Yeah, and then every single person we know is going to walk up to me and ask why I'm not making an honest man outta you.”  Dean kinda blurts it out, but before he even gets embarrassed, Cas smirks and crawls into his lap.

“Like you even  _ could, _ Winchester.”  Memories of kinky sex and Cas’ position in his lap attempt to distract him, but Dean pushes through.

“They don't get it, Cas.  They don't believe me when I tell them how happy I am, just like this.”  He leans in and rests his head against Cas’ chest.  “I don't need a piece of paper to tell me I'm yours.”

“I know,” Cas hums, resting his hand on Dean’s neck.  “It's one of those endearing little qualities that make you so fucking irresistible,” he huffs into Dean’s hair.  In the following silence, Dean feels all the tension go out of his shoulders.  That was part of Cas’ beauty, he just  _ understood. _  He didn't ask any more than this because he knew in these quiet moments that what passed between them was more than words could ever describe.

Cas’ fingers lift his face by his chin, kissing him gently, and Dean can feel all the comfort Cas is offering.  He knows how much Cas cares about him through the brush of his lips and the exhalation of his breath against his skin, he doesn't need words for it.  Dean’s fingers tighten against Cas’ back, showing how much he  _ needs _ him.  His teeth nip and bite, claiming him and showing how much he  _ wants  _ him.

Dean’s heart beats a hard rhythm against his sternum, like it's trying to escape to be closer to the only person it's ever belonged to.

“I know,” Cas says again.  He meets Dean’s eyes, and he can read them plainer than any written word Dean could ever put to paper.  His brain is still searching, though, still looking for that one thing to say that can express what he feels all the way down to his soul.

In the end, only one word seems big enough to hold everything Dean is feeling, and yet familiar enough to give him comfort.  One word that encompasses everything he's ever wanted, everything he’ll ever need.  Just... _ everything _ .

“Castiel,” he exhales, his voice filled with reverence, like a prayer.  Cas closes his eyes as it washes over him, smiling when he leans in to press his forehead to Dean’s.  The pressure lessens in his chest, his mind and heart satisfied with everything that word just said.  Lips exchange a couple more silent vows, and when Cas’ come to rest against his temple, he finally feels content.

“I love you, too,” Cas admits.

Cas always makes those words sound so simple, every time he says them.  Just a verbal articulation of a simple concept, not the bulky, ungainly words that frustrate Dean so much.

But when they're coming from Cas, well, they're not so bad after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and TIA for the comments and kudos ;)


End file.
